Musings On Tuesdays
by Dylan GreyFox
Summary: "Tuesdays are ALWAYS the worst..." (Set early S6, post "Afterlife". S/B fluff and TLC.)


Buffy walked into his crypt, ready for a teasing insult, maybe even a mean one, the blare of his television or some God-awful Sex Pistols. She shuddered. Or worse. The Ramones. But she was completely unprepared for the permeating silence in the tomb.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
No answer. She glanced around anxiously, slipping to the lower layer as she had been doing lately. Slipping away to see Spike, not even considering it odd that she'd only feel alive in a tomb. "Spike?" She called again. Again, nothing. An exceptionally vulnerable expression took her face. He wasn't here. He was... he was never not here. She lowered herself to the edge of his satin-sheeted mattress, hands folding in her lap, eyes clouding, and bottom lip clenched in her teeth. Alone. She hated being alone. Hated talking cheerfully in the same measures... That was why she came here. She didn't have to speak, and she still wasn't alone.  
  
Thankfully, it was that moment that the vampire chose to return. Spike grunted quietly to himself, moving slowly through the tunnel off his crypt. Not much further... His stomach burned where that big, butt ugly demon had sliced him, and he held it with one hand, holding the torn skin together in hopes that it would knit faster that way. It hurt, and he was just gonna get home, and slap on a quick bandage, then spend some time with his friend Jack Daniels, and- He paused. Sniffed, head tilted, then sighed. Write off the second half of that plan, then. The Slayer was in his crypt. Normally, that would've been a cause for celebration... but not when he was hurting like this. He wasn't in the mood to talk to her right then... But he would. He loved her. If she needed to talk, he'd be there. Sliced stomach or no.  
  
Buffy rose, the expression on her face fading from the bleak sadness before. "Hi."  
  
Spike offered her a smile. "Hey, luv... 'Nother bad day?" Moved over to a sarchophogus in the corner, fishing for a first aid kit... bandages... Hell. At the moment a cheese wrapper would've helped.  
  
She sighed. "Well, it-" She broke off her usual tirade as she saw his hand on his stomach. "What happened?"  
  
He shrugged dismissively. "Had a run in with a bit of a big nasty, pet. Nothin' for you to worry 'bout. What were you sayin'?" Ahh! First aid kit... Damn. No bandages. Okay. Keep looking.  
  
She stood, going to his side, poking, prodding at him till he was sitting down, on the side of the bed, as she had been earlier. Batted his hands away. Frowned at the nasty cut. "Where's your kit?"  
  
Practically snapped, mostly because her nudging and poking at him unnerved him. "What do you think I was lookin' for? Party favors?" Shook his head and sighed, gentling his voice. "Sorry, luv. I didn't mean that to come out like that. The one in that box doesn't have any bandages. I was lookin' for the other one."  
  
"Do you HAVE another one?" Her tone implied she thought he didn't.  
  
He gave a snort, then winced in pain when the action caused the cut to throb. Mumbled, "I have six. But none of them are complete. I thought the one with the bandages was in there."  
  
She turned, took in the crypt. "Where?"  
  
Pointed absently at another sarchophogus, his other hand slowly rolling up his shirt, trying to peel the cotton away from the wound without taking a part of him with it. Forgot that the particular sarchophogus he'd just pointed at still had... well, a partial occupant. And the first aid kit.  
  
She had jumped back, as she slid the lid back, expecting the only dead thing in this crypt to be Spike. "Gah!"  
  
He looked up from his own gory task to blink at her confusedly. "What?"  
  
"Dead guy!" She pointed as she snatched the first aid kit away from it's skeletal fingers. "Bony, creepy dead guy!"  
  
He blinked at her, his lips twitching. She was retrieving a first aid kit to use on a VAMPIRE, who lived in a CRYPT, and she herself had been dead less than... Hell, she'd been BACK for less time than she'd been dead... AND she was the SLAYER... Freaked out by a simple, unthreatening, skeleton. Dear God, did he want to laugh. But that would only hurt worse... and more so when her fist met his nose, as it undoubtedly would.  
  
She sulked her way back to him, dropping to her knees in front of him. "Lemme see."  
  
Oh, she was just so cute when she pouted like that... And still.. a SKELETON... when she fought legions of the undead without even batting an eye, and... He wordlessly finished rolling his shirt up, knowing that if he opened his mouth, he would laugh. That would.... Oh, it would just be very very bad.  
  
She opened the antiseptic, her ire with him dissipating completely as she focused on the wound. Had to be careful. Looked dirty. Had to get it all out.  
  
He started to say something, but the sound that came out was a very odd cross between a hiss, a growl, and a whimper, as she began cleaning the wound. Damned antiseptic... Did they DELIBRATELY put something in it to make it sting like that? Felt like she was cleaning the wound with Holy Water!  
  
She frowned up at him, began to blow softly on it as she cleaned, trying to not scrub, just swab gently. "Sorry," she whispered.  
  
Still, he winced. But... This was a new thing. Her... looking out for him like this. He didn't know what she thought she was doing, but... It was... kind of nice. "S'okay, luv... You were gonna say somethin' 'bout your day?" And he was ready to listen. As always. Her attentive puppy, hanging on her every word.  
  
She shrugged. "All that living stuff... just gets on my nerves. Smile. Smile. Smile." Didn't really want to talk about herself right now. Wanted to know how his day had been. Had she ever asked that before? "How was your day?" God, did she sound timid.  
  
His day? Well, at the moment, he was doing a passable impression of a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing and opening and- "My day... Uh, well... I.." He blinked. Thought to himself, It's not like she asked you to explain the Theory of Relativity to her, ya wanker! She just asked how your day was! SAY SOMETHING!! "Seems to have ended rather... differently that I thought." Mental smack to the forehead.  
  
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh. You don't usually get gored by a demon?" She liked herself around him. She felt... real.  
  
He shrugged and grinned a little. "Caught me off guard... S'not Tuesday."  
  
She smiled up at him. "And it's ALWAYS Tuesday's." She spoke from experience.  
  
He nodded, then cocked his head. "Weirdest thing, isn't it? I mean... vampire's have perfect memories... Well, mostly perfect.... Everything in the last few years..." He blinked. "The only day I can think of that WASN'T a Tuesday was Thanksgiving... and nothin's happened on off days since then... Parent Teacher night? Tuesday, reset from Thursday. Judge? Tuesday. You 'n me goin' after Angelus? Tuesday. Me gettin' back to town and snatchin' Red and Harris? Tuesday.... I could go on." That was... truely strange, now that he thought of it. EVERY single thing was a Tuesday.... Patrols didn't even seem eventful the other days of the week.  
  
"Dawn getting in trouble..." Sigh and shrug. "Everyday, but... Tuesdays are always worse."  
  
He blinked at her. "Hasn't your birthday been on a Tuesday for like... Every year? Isn't that... kinda strange?" That had just occured to him as well.  
  
She quirked a grin, smoothing an antibiotic across the seams of the cut. "Kinda strange, or kinda Hellmouth-ee?"  
  
He shook his head and shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah. You're right. Hellmouth thing. Playin' havoc with the calender." Furrowed his brow. "Seriously, though... I'm gonna start marking calenders or something... I can NOT be remembering right... There had to be a... Monday, or a... Wednesday in there... Somewhere, right? I mean, those are the days that people don't like. Why always Tuesday- OW!" The sudden yelp for punctuation had been caused by her putting a bandage on, deciding that it was lopsided, and yanking it back off... forgetting that it was the self adhearing kind.  
  
Her fingers petted at the skin in apology, face scrunched up as she regarded the cut, the muscle surrounding it.  
  
He gave a little smile, her touch pulling him from his... Odd Tuesday thoughts, and cocked his head a little. "Careful, luv... You pet a stray dog... you never get rid of 'em... S'worse than feedin' 'em."  
  
"I like this stray," she admitted quietly, hands still soothing the abused skin.  
  
"S'good thing 'e belongs to you, then." His voice was so quiet, it almost hadn't been said aloud. And now he was wondering exactly WHY he had said that out loud, and... She liked him?   
  
She smoothed the bandage back on, correctly, thumbs feathering over the edges, straightening them out innanely. Her hands slid to touch hesitantly at his sides. "I think it's a good thing."  
  
Her hands were so warm... So very alive... His head dropped slightly and he looked down at her hands, slightly moving his body, almost unnoticably, from one side to the other, nudging them gently. Encouraging. This was a new thing... and though his demon's instincts told him to be wary of new things, for they often would turn out bad, Spike was much more than just a bundle of instincts and emotions. And he trusted Buffy.  
  
Her hand squeezed gently, in an almost massaging manner, up, then down his ribs. "Hurt you anywhere else?"  
  
He shook his head a little, suddenly feeling kind of... fuzzy. It was an odd feeling but... very much not bad... Whatever she was doing, he definitely liked. Mumbled, "No... I killed it after it pissed me off."  
  
She should stop, she knew. Right now. They talked, and they joked, but they didn't touch. But she wanted to touch. Wanted that connection. And he wouldn't deny her... right? A shiver of uncertainty went through her, but all the same, she stood, hands never leaving at least one part of his body, and slid to sit behind him, arms tucking gently under his, to touch and mold, and massage.  
  
His eyes slowly drifted closed, and he started rumbling from deep in his chest. He imagined that Buffy'd heard a vampire purr before... She'd been with Angel, she'd have had to... Right? Well, whether or not she had... he couldn't exactly turn it off... And it had been so long since he'd purred. Not since... God, not since before Angelus had returned... Not since before the Slayer dropped a church organ on him, on a Tuesday... The very same Slayer who was now causing him to purr again. The irony wasn't lost... it was simply ignored.  
  
Her chin hooked gently over his shoulder, tracing the movements her hands made. So perfect. His skin was perfect ivory. She was the golden one. But why did she feel that HE was touched by the sun, and she the one left to the night??  
  
He leaned back just a little, the purring getting louder. He breathed slowly, reflexively, in and out, despite the fact that he didn't need to. It was calming... Everything was calming at the moment.. Wait... He was supposed to be the one making her feel better... Uh... what had happened? And, more importantly, did it even MATTER? He thought not.  
  
She tilted her head down, instinctively hiding her smile, unaware it was pressed against his skin. His purr made her smile. It was.... so happy. So easy. So genuinely relaxed. The purr transfered the feelings to her.  
  
He moved his body again, using his sides to almost nuzzle her hands, one of his coming up to gently touch hers once, before they dropped to his lap again. His purr was louder... God, louder than it had ever been before. He'd never purred like this for Dru... He blinked when a realization hit him. The ONLY time he'd purred with Dru was after sex. Her touch... simple things like that... It had never made him purr... Especially not this long or loud. Growl, snarl... the miriad of other sounds he was capable of making, yes... But not a purr. He didn't know what to make of that. Did know that he was just... very much enjoying this... Buffy was breathing on his shoulder, her warm breath raising his tempreture as her hands were. He was already about ten degrees above room tempreture. Enough to realize just how cold his crypt basement really was... He tried to move closer back to her instinctively, feeling cold, and wanting to be warm.  
  
One hand slid around, above the bandages, pressing herself more closely against him. This was simple. It was simple, and easy, and... so wonderful. She hadn't felt this peaceful in ages. The fingers of her hand on his stomach stroked up and down slowly.  
  
He made a tiny sigh, and the sound was one of... utter and complete contentment. He wanted to move his head... to nuzzle her... She was practically holding him in her lap... It had to be okay, right? So.. he did. Very tenatively, and rather fast. Just... tilted his head and nuzzled her with his nose for less than a second, before dropping his chin back to his chest. Half hoped she hadn't noticed it... God, what if he'd made her mad? Then this might never happen again, and... And... was she giggling? Had he done something funny and not been aware of it? Sure, he was acting like a big house cat, but...   
  
It had tickled. That... thing he'd done with his nose tickled. It made her shake, just a little bit, but it quit if she pressed closer to her big house cat, though. Her stray.  
  
He smiled a little and turned his head slightly, looking at her out of one half lidded eye. He could only see one side of her face but... She was smiling. That was good. He hadn't seen her smile like that in... He didn't know how long. Turned up the volume of his purr just a little more. Spoke softly, his voice almost interrupted by his purring. "Are you... expected anywhere, any time soon?" God, please, if you've EVER listened to me, do it now... Don't let her have to go... Please... this is too wonderful... More than I've ever hoped for...  
  
She shook her head, her cheek and hair brushing his skin, feathering over him. "Nope." Contented tone.  
  
He mouthed a silent 'thank you', feeling, for the first time, that there might just be someone looking out for the good guys' after all... And all he had to do was become one. Gave another sigh, smiling a little more now. "Good..." She was going to put him to sleep. He did NOT want to go to sleep... But he didn't want her to stop either... and whatever she was doing with that one hand still on his ribs... Wow. Definitely didn't want her to stop. Nuh uh.  
  
Her fingers were splayed on his ribs, rubbing between them, occasioanlly kneading gently. Her head sunk down on his shoulder, eyelids drooping heavily. It felt so good...   
  
Both of them tilted at the exact same second, tipping over and landing with her against his back, both on their sides on the bed. Somehow managing to land both their heads on the pillows. Spike blinked. Okay. He'd just... blanked out for a second, and... now they were lying down... And yet she hadn't stopped what she was doing... and she was making that little laughing sound again. Maybe tipping over was funny... Or the fact that she had successfully turned the Big Bad into a big cuddly kitten, and was currently putting him to sleep. Yeah. That was funny. Or it would've been, if said kitten hadn't been him.  
  
"What are you, Spike?" She whispered in his ear, unintentionally seductive, "A kitten or a panther?"  
  
He grinned a little. There were two possible answers to that question... Well, three. But one of them was liable to get him staked on the spot. So it was between the other two. Smiling, he spoke quietly, honestly, "Whichever you want me to be, luv."  
  
"I think..." Her hand almost rolled up his chest, down again, to play at his ribs, languidly, lazily, happily, "that right now, you're just Spike."  
  
He smiled again, his purring going up in volume once more and his body going completely lax, now that he didn't have to worry about staying sitting up. "That's good... I like that name... Wouldn't know what to call m'self if I woke up a kitten... or a panther, for that matter... Maybe 'Killer', or... 'Fang'..." Ah, the disjointed thoughts of the pleasure drunk and almost asleep.  
  
"Yeah... Spike is good..." Broken yawn. "Good name for you. Fluffy would just be bad."  
  
Despite the half asleep nature of his thoughts, he turned his head and tried for a vicious, skathing glare. Of course... it might have been more effective if he wasn't trying to cuddle closer backwards at the same time, still purring like a race car. And the unconvincing-ness of it might also have been caused by his half closed eyes... and or the slightly dopey grin. "Fluffy, Slayer? I sincerely hope you never get a pet. Anyone who would inflict a name like that on an innocent animal..." Tisked. "And they call me a monster."  
  
The bashful smile she sent him was his undoing. "Always wanted to name a kitten Fluffy."  
  
He sighed, his 'aggressive posture' deflating, and relaxed again, mumbling to himself. "I'm never gonna be a kitten, then. 'Fluffy'. Poor thing... Be better off as a poker chip..." Cut himself off with a huge yawn that included a guest appearance by a nicely sharpened set of fangs.  
  
She laughed lazily, one hand reaching up to touch a fang, then cuddled against him, eyes closing.  
  
He blinked. Was she... really going to sleep on him? Wrapped around him... God, it was nice... and he was so very warm... and happy... Wait. Missing something... She'd get cold... he should... He reached down and managed to pull the sheets up over them, suddenly very thankful that he'd forgotten to fling them up over the mattress before he'd left that evening. There. Now she'd be warm. Maybe she'd even like the silk. He hoped so... Now he was... Okay... Sleeping. Hoped she'd be there when he woke up, if only to prove to himself that it wasn't a dream... Cause it wasn't... Right?  
  
Buffy heaved a contented sigh, snuggling down luxurously into the silk sheets, and against him, a hand skimming over his chest. Right. And she somehow knew... She'd still be there in the morning.  
  
They both would.  
  
The End 


End file.
